


Tangerines

by theheadandthekin



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7352371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheadandthekin/pseuds/theheadandthekin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 3x02, there are tangerines in the fruit basket in Abbie’s house. In 3x09, there are no tangerines. Just apples and bananas. </p><p>(Set after the S3 mid-season finale. Previously posted on Tumblr.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She loved them.

He tolerated them–because she loved them and he loved her.

Every morning, she’d pluck one from the fruit basket in the kitchen, turn it over three times in her fingers, and part the rind at the bottom with her thumbnail, carefully peeling it away in one whole, intact piece. 

She had two speeds. There was rushed, automatic, efficient. Weekday mornings, demon-hunting mornings. Going-for-a-run-before-it-gets-too-hot mornings.

Then there was slow and indulgent. Early mornings, Sundays, and holidays. Meditative mornings, post-solved-case mornings. Happy mornings.

Sometimes, he’d peel his own–remembering the ravages of scurvy, the decadent displays of oranges and limes and lemons at Abraham’s parties–but, usually, she’d simply offer him two segments of hers. Although he favored the sour bite of a proper orange, or a crisp apple, he would always accept.

She’d done it _that_ morning. 

Pluck. Turn. Peel. 

“We’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow.” She smiled and held out the two pieces for him.

And, just as he did every morning since he moved in with her, he wanted to bend down, pull the wedges of sweet fruit directly into his mouth, taste the juice and fragrant oils and bitter pith on her fingers. Would she moan as he drew her knuckles past his lips and slid his tongue across the pads of her fingers, like she did when the first piece of orange citrus touched her tongue each morning?

Would her lips taste of tangerine if he kissed her?

How long would it linger, mingling with the sweetness of her own skin?

He didn’t find out that morning, although the way she smiled up at him, the way she held his gaze with a rare softness, made him wonder if the day she would welcome his curiosity and affection would come sooner rather than later.

The next morning, when her sister was safe? On the weekend, when he wouldn’t have to give her up to work, and he could take the time to taste far more of her?

(Or, perhaps, his addled mind was playing tricks with his memory. Perhaps her smile hadn’t been different at all.)

But now it was as likely as not that he would never find out any of it. She was lost. Gone. He was alone.

Over the weeks since she’d vanished into the tree, the three tangerines that remained in the basket slowly withered and dented. On day nineteen, as the kettle heated on the stove long before the winter sun rose, he stared at the brown, decaying spots on their skin. They’d already turned the new bananas dark and spotty.

Rot begat rot. 

Death begat death.

He scooped them up–slimy though they were–and marched through the laundry room and out the backdoor. With a final look at their puckered flesh in the pale light, he threw them as hard as he could into the backyard. 

It was the swiftest action he’d taken in days. The teakettle whistled as he sank heavily to the cold flagstone, spent.

“Why did you leave me, Abbie?” He whispered, oblivious to the chill. “Why?”


	2. Chapter 2

“This is weird.” She moved her hand from his elbow to his wrist. “Okay. Sorry, let me … okay. Yeah, I definitely want to be back outside. The house is … too familiar? Or too closed. Too quiet. I want to see sky.”

She couldn’t keep up with her thoughts; everything was still so scrambled.

He squeezed her hand. “Anything you need.”

She looked up at him, then around the living room. She half-expected the walls to melt away into stone. “I need something that isn’t a routine memory. Just as … reassurance. I promise I haven’t lost it, Crane. It’s just–”

“Overwhelming. I understand. Outside it is, then.”

They hadn’t stopped touching one another for more than a few seconds since she’d called his soul back. “I’ll be okay. You can let go.”

“Are you certain?”

She nodded. Yes. _Mostly._ But she couldn’t be okay unless she acted like she was.

* * *

While she quickly changed her clothes, he gathered up pillows and as many blankets as he could carry–including the feather tick from off her bed, hoping she wouldn’t mind–and went to meet her out on the patio.

Silently, they spread the bedding out on the small patch of grass. Yellow light from the laundry room spilled out into the yard, casting Crane’s shadow over her as crawled beneath the covers.

She squirmed around to find a comfortable spot. “Thanks for remembering my pillowcase.”

“It’s beautiful–your hair–and it would not do to damage it.”

“You an expert on natural hair now?”

He huffed, and sat on the edge of the flagstone to remove his boots, his face still in shadow. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Lieutenant.”

“That’s for damn sure.”

“Are you certain you want to stay out here? It’s rather chilly. I don’t mind, of course, but–”

“I’ve spent every winter of my life in New York. This ain’t half bad.” She flipped over and burrowed further under the pile of blankets. “And being cold is way better than feeling nothing. That place was like being in a lukewarm bath. Little discomfort is maybe good for the soul right now.”

He tracked her gaze to the night sky. “You said there were no days or nights there?”

“It was disturbing as hell.” She again turned to look up at him, still stretched out on the patio near the edge of the featherbed. “There are so many things you don’t know you’ll miss until they’re gone. Or don’t know how much you’ll miss.”

“I know.”

She wound her arm out of her cocoon and grasped his calf. “Stay with me, Crane.”

“I shall never leave you, Lieutenant.”

* * *

In his arms, she eventually drifted to sleep.

He did not.

* * *

As the color of the sky lightened, he laid a kiss on her forehead and slipped out of their makeshift bed.

He was thankful it was an unseasonably warm night, and that dew, rather than frost, clung to his stockings as he crossed to the house.

She would be hungry, so he decided on a quick outing to the store–but not before placing a hot water bottle with her under the blankets and her charged cell phone on his pillow.

* * *

“I brought you tangerines. We were … out.”

“All right, Crane, you just made this the best hallucination ever.”

“I’m quite certain these are real.” He turned one over in his fingers. “Indeed. The sticker says, ‘Grown in Florida.’ And I am certain I drove to the store and back and was not floating in the void.”

He settled beside her, close enough that they could feel one another’s warmth.

“I am also certain I could not dream a vision as lovely as you here.”

Sitting up, she smiled softly and bumped his shoulder. “Hand them over. I know you don’t like them.”

“I shall endure anything for you.” He dug into the peel, although with none of her art. “Even a tangerine.”

He pried the fruit apart, and handed her piece by piece. She laughed each time.

“Another? As further defense against scurvy?”

She nodded, and he didn’t miss how she stared at his hands while he peeled the second tangerine. He took two wedges for himself, and handed her the remaining ones section by section.

But the last piece … she it pulled right into her mouth, just letting her lips graze his finger.

“Abbie …”

She kissed his knuckle, this time leaving no ambiguity in her action. “It’s bigger than words. I know, believe me. I practiced them all.”

“Hmmm. As did I.” He took her hand again in both of his, and ran his thumbs in a gentle pattern over her wrist.

After several long moments, he continued: “Would you allow me to show you, instead?”

“Yeah. Yes.” Her eyes held none of the anxiety they had the previous day; they were steady and focused. “I want to know if you taste like tangerines.”

He leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers and clutched her hand to his chest, over his heart. “As I, too, have wondered every morning for months on end.”

“Let’s both find out, then.”


End file.
